Narcolepsy
by Vaako
Summary: After the final battle, Harry finds himself sent to an old, strange world where weakened and ill he is soon attacked and kidnapped by orcs. Suffering from some kind of 'portal'-lag, Harry needs help. He needs to find the wizards of this land... Slash HIATUS
1. Maeve, Gimli,

Narcolepsy

_A red-gold glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them, as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that Voldemort's was suddenly a flaming blur. Harry heard the high voice shriek as he, too, yelled his best hope to the heavens, pointing Draco's wand:_

'_**Avaaadaaa Kedavraaa**__aaaaahhhh...!'_

"Expelliarmus!" Harry called out, raising his empty hand even as he opened reluctant eyes. He realised he had been dreaming even as he caught a glimpse of the hideous monster standing over him. "Who are you? What do you want? _Accio-wand! Accio!"_

But he couldn't get his tongue to work, or his eyes to stay open. In desperation he managed almost to stand, but that effort and absolute fatigue forced him into blackness almost immediately.

He dreamt.

_Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snake-like face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead dead dead and Harry stood stood stood with two wands in his hands, staring down down down at... his ...enemy's... shell..._

_One shivering shivering second of silence silence, the shock shock shock of the moment suspended: and then the tumult broke the tumult broke around me around Harry as the screams and screams and and the cheers and the roars of the watchers watching watchers rent the air. _

_...they thundered towards him and the first to reach him were Ron and Hermione, and it was their arms, their arms... wrapped around him. Then, then, and, were there and then all, and, and, and, and Harry could not hear a word, not a word anyone was shouting, nor tell whose hands hands hands were seizing him - seizing him!_

Harry stirred.

_...seizing him... pulling him, trying to hug some part of him, hundreds of them pressing in, all of them determined to touch the Boy... Who... Lived... the reason... it was over... at last..._

"_At last..._ he's waking..."

Harry's eyes wouldn't open to more than a slit, so he stared with squinting eyes up at the blurry woman over him. She was very close - he was lying in her lap and she was touching his face and his hair, humming tensely and rocking.

He tried to sit up, to get away from this strange woman, but his limbs were heavy. He felt ill, so ill... Had he been cursed? Where was he? Where! Where! He turned his head and saw another woman sitting very close, too close and looking frightened. He looked past her and saw a few more women and men too. They were corralled in a small area. He could smell foulness in the air; hear strange accents, animal guttural noises...

"Where...?" he asked the woman holding him and she rocked him roughly and hushed him over and over until he gave up.

He'd begun to think she didn't understand his language when she whispered in his ear, "You remind me of my son. I'll protect you. Don't worry."

Harry unwillingly closed his eyes and he _dreamt..._

_...jubilation and mourning! Grief and celebration! They wanted him there... with them... their leader- Leader! ...their symbol ...their saviour, saviour and guide and that and that he hadn't slept, no sleep, hadn't slept, that he craved that he slept that he craved the company of so few, so few of them... _so tired...

_But no, no sleep, he must speak to them all, he must speak to the bereaved, clasp their hands hold them tight... witness their tears, so many tears... receive their thanks, don't want their thanks do want their thanks want so bad their thanks..._

_And you hear, you hear the news, how tired the news...after it all, during it all, amongst it all never ends Harry found himself sitting on a bench next to Luna._

_And she said, she said, she said 'I'd want some peace and quiet, if it were me..."_

He was beginning to get frustrated with his inability to wake properly. He coasts from dreams to nightmares to this _living_ or maybe nightmare. But he must wake now, he can hear the women screaming, hear their monstrous captors laughing.

A shrill scream slices through his clouded consciousness, "They're _eating her!_"

He shifts on cold hard damp ground. He can hear the other captives hushing her as he was hushed before. The cold from the ground had crept up into his aching muscles, making them creak and cramp. His bones feel as if they are grating together, piercing his skin, but he knows he must wake from this nightmare. He must wake up, now.

Quieter he hears the woman repeat, "...they're _eating _her..." and small sobs followed.

To his horror, he feels himself slipping away again, slipping away, always away he goes when he is needed, and never there... this must stop, he thinks, before his eyes close yet again.

_Happiness would come, Harry thought, but at the moment it was muffled by exhaustion, and the pain... the pain... but most of all he felt the most stupendous relief, and a longing to sleep. But first... always first..._

_...they fell respectfully silent, beaming and mopping their eyes and waiting eagerly, so eagerly for him to speak and he did, exhausted and he did, so exhausted and bleary-eyed though he was, he must make one last effort, seeking one last piece of advice... _

And then he heard it again ... someone was screaming, screaming inside his head ... a woman...

"Please no, take me, kill me instead-"

"_Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

"_Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now..."_

"_Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead -"_

Numbing, swirling white mist was filling Harry's brain ... what was he doing? Why was he _sleeping, dreaming?_ He needed to help her... she was going to die... she was going to be murdered!

He was falling, falling through thick suffocating mist.

"Please... have mercy...!"

"_Not Harry! Please... have mercy... have mercy..."_

_A shrill voice was laughing, the woman was screaming..._

The woman was screaming and Harry woke up. One of the creatures towered above them and he lay at its feet in the woman's arms. In its huge paw of a hand a rusted axe covered in filth, raised threateningly.

"Hand over the sleeping maggot and we'll put him to sleep forever!" it roared and from behind it another leant around him, "Heeah, hurry it up I'm starvin'!"

And Harry realised that he was very, very awake. More awake than he'd been in what seemed a long time. Before they could react he stood and as he stood he reached for the axe in the orcs hand, and it felt as if everyone was moving in slow motion and he was moving at normal speed.

'Perhaps I am dreaming after all?' he thought to himself, even as he swung the axe at the monsters twisted head. He watched the blade cleave into the thick neck and through, through to the other side and out -

The head fell to the ground at regular speed, and things seemed to catch up with him. He spoke to the woman beside him, "Ma'am, get ready to run. I'll distract them for as long as I can." And he ran towards the second orc and that dreamlike state returned. He felt dizzy as he hacked into its stomach, then another orc within reach, a slash down its torso. It was dark and it felt to Harry as if they surrounded him on all sides, but in reality there were few of them.

If he'd had his wand, he might be able to hold these magic-less creatures back... And worse; what luck had helped him wield the axe was failing...

And worse than even that; those few he'd slashed across the torso were getting up again, moving faster, catching up with him! This was a nightmare! He could hear the women screaming, "Please have mercy have mercy!"

A tall, furious man-minotaur-thing approached him slowly and Harry raised the axe in preparation. But a strange feeling overcame him and he found his arm dropping... the axe was so heavy... his knees buckled..._and he was drowning in fog. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water..._

_And then from far away he heard screaming, screaming terrible terrified, pleading screaming. He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but he couldn't... a thick white fog of memory and dreams was swirling around him, inside him... _

_... The fog in his head crawled deeper, into his chest, into his heart... He was being dragged downwards, the roaring grew louder..._

Harry dropped to the ground and did not, could not move. The monster was still but a moment, before raising a blunt and dented scimitar for the killing blow - intended to hack Harry up and throw him in pieces to the other hungry, always hungry... creatures...

However at the last moment a throwing axe lands itself in the monsters chest, over where its heart must be. The monster dropped backwards and chaos ensued.

When Harry wakes again, having not dreamt, the woman is leaning over him again, she is half-smiling and weary.

He feels almost painfully awake again, revived. He sits up without help and looks around. They are at a camp fire circled with a handful more humans and short burly bearded men - Dwarves.

He looked to the woman for explanation, "What happened?"

"Oh, well..." She smiled softly, "You woke up! My boy! My poor boy!" She held him in a remarkably strong grip and cradled him to her chest. Harry was really uncomfortable...

Gently, he eased himself from her grip, feeling a sleepiness niggling at the back of his mind. He felt as if he walked in a daze. "Who are you?" He asked her, not wanting to offend, but needing to know, "I'm sorry, I am very grateful, but who are you?"

"I... I apologise, I forgot. My son is dead." She covered her face. "You just... you look so like him." Harry places a sympathetic hand on her shoulder and didn't more questions from her.

He turned to those around the campfire, "Thank you for saving us, I am sincerely grateful. Most certainly I was next on the menu if I remember correctly... My name is Harry Potter."

The dwarves are surly, but not unfriendly - not once you've praised them a little and get them telling stories. The humans were cold and miserable and mentally unwell after all they'd been subjected to.

Harry, too, sunk deep into thought, wondering of where he was and if his friends would search for him or give him up for good. There seemed to be a block on his memory, he could not remember why he was where he was... maybe he didn't even know. Maybe he'd just gone to sleep before he could speak to the professor.

"Master Harry," a timid woman broke into his thoughts, "How did you come to be taken by the Orcs?"

"I don't rightly know... I must've fallen asleep. I suffer from a magical problem, most likely a mislaid curse of some-kind. I fall asleep at regular intervals... I'm finding it is most inconvenient. I haven't had it long. How came your lot to be taken by these...'Orcs'?"

"We lived near a village by the wild forest... we heard rumours of Orcs stirring on the other side, but by the time we were leaving it was too late, a band of the flesh-eating monsters were upon us! Many... many of us were slain in one night...the rest were taken with them to feed them as they journeyed."

Everyone remained silent after this, it was terrible to imagine. No one slept that night, not even Harry; who didn't want to risk not waking up again.

The Dwarves readied to travel while the sky was still dark. "We have tarried too long already, we must be away and quickly."

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" Harry asked, his joints creaking as he stood. "Are you being followed?"

"Nothing like that, young master Harry. No... but we must not speak of it at all, to anyone."

"And definitely not to a human - He could be spy! The hearts of men are hollow!" snarked an old dwarf with a long white beard and a big hooked nose.

Harry looked into his beady black eyes and felt déjà-vu... "I assure you I am no spy. But I will ask no more questions. I ask only that you let us travel with you to the nearest human settlement."

There was a general grumbling at that, but there was also a general consensus that these pitiful humans could not be left to rot in the wilderness. Their honour would not let them abandon them.

"Aye, so it must be. But we must _make haste!_"

"And no fainting, boy!"

"I don't faint!" Harry complained, helping the poor woman stand. He was steadying another woman when he remembered that he had fainted, more than once... and it was similar to these sleeping fits he was undergoing.

The Dementors had caused a similar reaction before... a feeling of falling through fog, consumed by ice cold... remembering awful moments... his mother screaming-

"Harry?"

Harry snapped his head to look at the woman. He struggled to focus his eyes on her, "...yes...?"

"Are you-" She looked around and moved closer to whisper, "Are you going to sleep again? Is there something I can do to help? I'll stay with you if they leave you behind."

He felt a rush of affection to this stranger-woman who had looked after him as he slept, "No, I'm fine. I was just... remembering. I'm sorry; I never caught your name?"

She patted his cheek, like a mother would a favoured son, "My name is Maeve."

He clasped her hand in his and looked her in the eye steadily, so that she would know he was sincere, "Thank you, Maeve. You are a brave and kind-hearted woman. If not for you I would be dead. Thank you."

Tears filled her eyes, "I only did what any mother... would do - I'm sorry! You look so like him! I couldn't save my son, he fell in the attack of our village, I saw him fall but I could not go to him, I was held back. He died in front of me and I could not... I could not even hold him in my arms!"

Harry was horrified; he stammered and wrapped his arms about the crying woman. "I'm sorry," he told her, "It was not your fault. It wasn't your fault, he knows that, he is at peace now..."

She sobbed harder and his face fell further in dismay and he held her tighter, watching as the Dwarves started on their journey once more. The men and women - he counted them, seven in all, seven left from a whole village! - They trailed after the Dwarves and Harry reluctantly released the woman, "We'd better hurry now, come on."

How many miles they travelled that day Harry could not say, but it probably felt more than it was. They came to a walled village and the Dwarves took them to the gate, not trusting the mostly mute humans to explain well enough.

Though startled to see the Dwarves, the village welcomed the other villagers with pity and dread, wanting to hear all about it, so that they could learn from their mistakes. The Dwarves agreed to stay the night in the warm tavern.

Here Harry sat with them, seeking their advice...

_...so exhausted and bleary-eyed though he was, he must make one last effort, seeking one last piece of advice... _

He shook his head to clear the memory.

"So master Harry, what did you wish to ask of us?"

Harry paused, trying to think of a way to word what he needed to say. He decided to be blunt.

"I would ask that you would - if you could- point me in the direction of the nearest Wizard?"

There was a long moment of silence. Then one of the younger Dwarves spoke up, "What be bothering you lad? Seek you some cure for you sleeping sickness?"

"That is so." Harry agreed, "Also there is more I must discuss with another Wizard. It may surprise you..." He leant in, "but despite appearances, I am also a Wizard."

Several Dwarfy eyes squinted at him.

"Methinks the boy is damaged in the head." One announced.

"No, really! I am a Wizard, why is that so hard to believe? I know i am not dressed like one, and I know I'm in a bit of a mess at this moment in time, and I have mislaid my wand-"

"Wizards use staffs."

"Not all of them! In fact, staffs are very rare-" he saw the Dwarves sharing constipated looks, and amended, lying, "Where I come from. Only the most powerful carry staffs, I am still learning."

Harry thought to himself that he might just be in the past! "I swear that if you point me to the nearest Wizard they will agree with me. I swear on my life, you must help me!"

"Nay do not swear on your life, lad!" the youngest cried, "Do not be so rash! We'll take you with us to where we are going. There may be Wizards there and they may choose to help you..."

"Can't promise you anything though..."

Harry was pleased with how things had gone, and curious to know of where they were going.

"It is of the greatest secrecy; the reason for our gathering... and I doubt you will ever know the reason. But we will tell you we are travelling to Rivendell." The Dwarf spat in distaste, waited for the reaction.

Harry waited for more information. After a long moment he realised no more was forthcoming, "So, ah, where is Rivendell?" he asked politely, "is it far...?"

"...Rivendell? Everyone must know of Rivendell! Even we Dwarves of the deep know of Rivendell!"

"It's an Elven outpost." A fat Dwarf explained.

"Oh, really? _Elves?_ Yes I've met those..." He was sensing some discontent here and he needed their help, he gambled on saying, "Troublesome little buggers, am I right?"

The silence that followed this statement caused him to regret his statement, but before he could apologise - they began laughing and clapping him on the back.

"Ah ha, ha! You're all right!"

Harry laughed too, weakly, unsure as to why this was so funny. He felt a little sick about making fun of the poor elves when these Dwarves seemed to hate them so much. He hoped he hadn't fallen in with a bad lot.

"So Harry, what kind of Wizard be you then?"

"Oh, I'm Light. A Light Wizard; I'm always firmly on the side of the Light. Well. Yes, I would say mostly so... Erm... Well, never the dark-side! Best not to put your name to any one something though..."

"So you're grey then are you? Nothing wrong with a Grey Wizard. Harry the Grey."

Harry grinned at them, not entirely sure what they were talking about. He decided it must be some old past tradition of some kind... When he found a Wizard he'd get them to explain everything and try to find a way back to his time...

"Alright lads! I'm off to bed, early start tomorrow!" A Dwarf raised his beer and finished it in one gulp. There were a scattering of cheers and groans from those seated around the fire. Harry was one of those who groaned.

"I don't think I should sleep until we reach Rivendell." Harry told them, "Or I may not wake again."

One of the Dwarves frowned, "T'would be best to get some sleep, boy... It will not be an easy journey. This Elven outpost is hard to get to."

"I must not sleep," Harry insisted, and he stayed sitting by the fire as everyone else left to find their beds. He'd sat there alone for an hour, maybe more when Maeve came down the stairs in a nightgown and shawl. She sat beside him and he looked at her expectantly. The fire reflected in her eyes and lit her cheeks, smoothing away the years from her face.

Her mousy hair looked red in this light and she reminded him startlingly of his own mother, whom he'd never known.

"You're leaving." She said it as if she was telling him, not asking. But he nodded anyway and she sighed. "I wish it were not so. I would not wish you take the place of my son, may he rest in peace, but I wish that you would stay with us..."

"I must find others of my kind," he told her. She did not ask any questions of him and he thought this strange. "You are the only one who has never asked me where I come from? Why is this?"

She avoided his eyes, "I saw you. I thought that maybe the gods had felt compassion and given me my son back. I saw you and I thought in my madness that maybe, just maybe... my son had returned to me."

Harry remained silent, as she became more distressed.

"You came from the sky, didn't you? I watch you and you were like a falling star at first... I made a wish, we all did. But only I was close enough to see you, falling through the air... you had wings, black wings and they were wrapped about you at first and then they flew open and stretched wide-"

She looked at him, "I don't know what you are, but you are not evil and you needed my help. You were put in my way, for me to see and save you as I could not..."

"I'm a Wizard," he told her quietly.

"A Wizard," she breathed. "You are not like any Wizard in this land."

"I'm not from this land." He told her, feeling he owed an explanation, feeling that he needed to quell this awe she was sharing with him. "Where I come from, there are many of us."

"Why did you come here?" She asked him, settling herself into the cushioned bench more comfortably. She sighed, "Are you here to help us?"

"Do you need helping?" he asked.

"I don't know..." she was falling asleep...

Harry let her sleep and spent his time watching the fire and listening to her breathing. His eyes felt heavy and he fell asleep without realizing. But in the morning, when someone shook his shoulder, he woke up. Maeve was gone and he felt relieved.

The kindly villagers gifted him with clothing to wear and he let them have his 'curious rags' as they called them, though he kept his ragged cloak as a memento, wearing it over a shirt, tunic, leggings and boots - all in varying colours of brown, though the tunic had once been maroon.

Maroon, he _was_ fond of that colour...

Warm and toasty, he left with the Dwarves. They were almost at the gate when Maeve came running out after them.

"I have something for you, Harry!" the woman caught up with him and handed him a rabbits foot, "For good luck and safe travelling!" She told him, out of breath.

He thanked her and kissed her on the cheek, as it seemed a natural thing to do. He was troubled to see the motherly love shining in her eyes and he wondered if she was confusing him with her son again, substituting one for the other. But if he stayed away this would be harmless enough...

Journeying with the Dwarves could become tiresome. He had yet to 'faint' again and he was full of energy. The dwarves talked incessantly of the greatness of their halls, their homes, the treasures they'd uncovered - but don't ask to know where they kept it - and of how stuck-up the Elves were.

Harry began to feel that these elves might be of a different kind to the House-Elves back home, but he didn't want to cause an argument by asking. He'd glean what he could from their complaints and wait to see for himself, though he was somewhat dreading meeting these short-tempered, cruel and snooty Elves. They sounded like the Malfoy's.

One night, a day's travel from Rivendell, Harry was sitting at the camp-fire with the younger Dwarf named Gimli - whose company he most preferred, when the strange creeping fog crept into his mind. His words became slurred and Gimli became alarmed.

"Harry? Harry! He's going under!"

This felt a little different, this time it was more like a fit. His body jerked and convulsed a little. Fear and despair filled his heart and tears welled in his eyes. "I don't want to sleep again, Gimli," he told the Dwarf, in a rare moment of vulnerability, "I don't want to dream again..."

And then he went under with a gasp and a sigh.

"_Let me speak to him... face to face..."_

_Harry felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn't move, he couldn't move, couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up, up, up and began to unwrap his turban... He turned slowly on the spot..._

_Harry would have screamed, screamed, screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, a face, the most terrible face..._

"_Harry Potter..." it whispered. "See what I have become? Mere shadow and vapour, shadow and vapour... I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always, always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds..."_

"_SEIZE HIM!"_

_...at once a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his might..._

"_Seize him! Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" shrieked Voldemort again and again and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet, landing on top of him, both hands around Harry's neck - Harry's scar was almost blinding him with pain, pain, pain!_

"_Master, master, master...! I cannot hold him - my hands - my hands...! AAAAAAARGH!"_

_Quirrel rolled off him, his face blistering and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn't touch, couldn't touch, couldn't touch his bare skin without suffering terrible pain - his only chance, last chance only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, hold him tight, keep him tight, keep him in enough pain, terrible pain, to stop him... stop him..._

_...he caught Quirrell by the arm and hung on as tight as he could, as he could... Quirrell screamed and screamed and screamed and tried to throw Harry off - the pain, the pain in Harry's head was building! He couldn't see- He couldn't see! He could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" and other voices-other voices, maybe in Harry's own head, crying, crying, crying, "Harry! Harry!"_

"_Harry!"_

_...he knew then that all was lost, and fell into blackness, down... down... down..._

He woke up alone in a strange bed, in a strange room. He felt fear, but he was calm. Slowly, quietly, he crept out of the bed and took of the nightgown some comedian had put him in. Dressed in his own clothes, a little more awake, he noticed a bowl of water beside his table and he was so thirsty that he drank it without question.

Once he'd finished the water, he saw clean elegant clothes laid on a chest by the door. He shook his head and wondered if he'd taken someone's room. He went to the door and listened carefully, hearing distant singing. He could not tell if they were happy or sad. He went to open the door, but found it locked.

He tried not to panic, worried that they might be watching him. If this place was Rivendell an elf would pop up if he called... if this place was like Hogwarts... but he got the distinct feeling that he would be wrong.

He stared around the room, looking for clues. But the room was sterile and cold. The chest was empty and the clothes, when he gave them a better inspection were cold and simple, too. He held them up to himself and to his dismay they would have fit him perfectly.

He didn't like this.

The window was not locked and it opened onto a small balcony. The drop to the next balcony was not so high, and he soon found himself dangling from exhausted arms, wondering if this was a good idea.

He let go anyway and landed well enough. The doors from this balcony were locked and he clucked his tongue in annoyance... something Petunia used to do. Feeling agitated, Harry dropped from this balcony easier and from there the ground was only several feet down. He jumped down from there and looked about.

No one was around. It was eerily empty and the singing had stopped. His heart pounded and he squatted beside a rose bush. The singing began again soon after and his heartbeat calmed. He wanted to get up and keep exploring, or maybe escape, but he was so tired...

With dread he knew what was happening. There was no helping it now. He lay down beside the rose bush and closed his eyes - then he opened them again and reached for his glassed, absently startled to find they were not there.

But this was a question to be answered when he next awoke. Now that he didn't fight it this time, the sleep came upon his slowly, lovingly. It caressed his limbs, the muscles relaxing, until the last thing awake was his mind and his eyes.

He stared up at the blue, so blue sky and dreamt of flying.

A/N: I might update this, its just an idea I had and it intrigues me after all. If there is romance, which there may not be, it will be of the Slash Variety.

This chapter includes a lot of excerpts from the actual books.

Most of these excerpts if not all are in italics, slightly altered - to show Harry's state of mind as he remembers. Harry has NOT lost his memory, he's just having those vivid flashback dreams we sometimes get. (I had one recently where I was stroking my dead dog. I could smell him and feel his fur, coarse and soft under my fingers, crinkly fur on his legs, long nose and big dark sad eyes. His ears twitched in that way he had... oh how I cried upon waking...)


	2. Inknose, ?

Narcolepsy

'_...do you mean ter tell me... that this boy - this boy! - knows nothin' abou' - about ANYTHING?'_

'_I know _some_ things...'_

_But Hagrid waved his big, big paw of a hand and (and in his hands was an axe, coated in filth and) said, 'About _our_ world, I mean! _Your_ world! _My_ world...! ..Yer parents' world...!'_

'_...what.. what ...world...?' What world..? This world? Or... another...?_

'_But yeh must know about yer mum and dad...- Yeh don' know... yeh don't know... Yeh don' know what yeh _are...?'

'_Stop! Stop! Stop right there! I forbid you -forbid you-forbidyouforbid-!'_

'_...Harry - yer a wizard...' _

_I knew I was different... I knew I was special... Always, I knew there was... something.__.._

_Then there was silence. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard._

Harry stirred and opened his eyes onto brilliant sunlight. Hissing, he rolled onto his side and blinked away the spots. His head throbbed as he struggled into a sitting position.

"Thought I'd wait around for a bit to see if were just taking a nap. Seems I chose wisely, aye? That could have been embarrassing." Gimli was sitting on a bench nearby, smoking a pipe. He'd had a bath and was dressed in rich fabrics and a gold belt. His wild bushy hair and beard were neatly plaited back.

Harry touched at his own dirty hair and face awkwardly, but he smiled, pleased to see someone he trusted, "How long have you been there?"

Gimli glanced at him and away, "Not more than half an hour... I knew you wouldn't be under that sleeping spell o' yours for long. You were kicking like a sleeping puppy and mumbling away."

This caught Harry off guard and he laughed in embarrassment, "I didn't say anything strange, did I Gimli?"

"You may have at that..."

Harry gave him the evil eye and his friend looked shifty. "Talking about giants and wizards..." the Dwarf chuckled nervously, "Had a little laugh about a pig named Dudley."

"...really? That was one of my best memories. I'm glad I dreamed about that..." Harry changed the subject, "I'm sorry I fell asleep, Gimli. You told me this place is hard to get to... was I much trouble?"

Gimli grunted, "Apparently Elves have wide guard patrols, we were being watched. We were guided in. I would have carried you myself, but the ruddy elf carried you off to the houses of healing!"

Harry tried to imagine this and failed. The two chattered back and forth good-naturedly, Gimli filling in all Harry had missed, until Harry could wait no more. "So this is Rivendell?"

"Home of the Elves," Gimli agreed.

"When I woke up I was locked in the room..." Harry felt a sharp stab of fear and with it a following nausea and exhaustion.

The Dwarf saw something of this in his face and rushed to explain as best he could, "I dare say you had no reason to fear. One o' the Elven healers took a look at you and decided you wouldn't wake for a good few hours yet... you understand that we the dwarves are here on secret business, as are many others. A lot is at stake..."

"So they don't trust me?" It wasn't pleasant being the outsider, coddled by some, locked away by others...

"Course they don't! They don't trust us either. Always been a bit of rivalry between Dwarves and Elves, and here we bring some strange cursed boy? - And one claiming to be a wizard? 'Tis fair strange, lad..."

"Are there wizards here? Now?"

"Aye... are you sure you want to go ahead and meet them? They're getting ready for the meeting-" Gimli choked on his pipe, "-Never you mind that last bit! What I mean is; there are several here, but they are like to be rather... short with you at this time."

Wide-eyed, Harry took note of the Dwarf's slip and shook his head, "I need to see one of them as soon as possible ...will you take me to one?"

Gimli stood, "Alright. Alright young master Harry!"

Harry stood and stretched his legs. He felt eager and frightened. What if this wizard was not a real wizard? What if they couldn't help him? What if he couldn't get home? He tried to be positive, but he knew it could take him a while to gather the knowledge he needed to return.

The Dwarf led him through empty halls. The Elves were_ apparently_ all off singing in the hall. Harry found this hilarious, though he tried to keep his mirth under wraps. He couldn't help but see Dobby in his mind's eye... but Gimli had told him these Elves were tall and fair.

Harry imagined a tall Dobby and snickered into his hand. Gimli was mystified. When they reached a door, Harry could hear several men shouting inside, but it died down when Gimli knocked. The door opened and an old man stood there wearing a tall pointy hat, pulled low on his head so that the rim shadowed his face, but for a long nose peeping out over a long white beard.

"Yes...?" he asked voice not unfriendly.

"Inknose!" said Gimli, sounding more jolly than Harry had heard him yet, "Remember of what we talked earlier at breakfast?" The dwarf tried to impart some message through his eyes. The wizard 'Inknose' nodded slowly and turned to look at Harry.

Harry felt hungry at the mention of breakfast, but remained positive, "Hello."

"Come in, come in and we'll hear all about it - I do apologise dear Gimli - but no dwarves!" said the wizard, shutting the door on Gimli.

Harry looked about the room. Two wizards were in deep discussion over a book by the window, and that was all. There were no more of them, despite his having heard several...

"Sit down, Harry_-the-Grey_." The wizard gestured to a short bench. When Harry had sat, the wizard sat too and the other two at the window fell silent. "So you think you're a wizard do you?"

"I know I am." Harry had a bad feeling, and grit his jaw.

"Well have to see about that, my boy. You're a bit young... Dear, dear..." He reached for his staff and muttered an incantation. Harry felt the sleep sweep over him in a great wave and he cried out - the wizard cried out, the four in the room cried out - and Harry woke when he knocked his head on the floor.

He hurriedly got back onto the bench.

The three wizards were staring at him, "Very strange," said Inknose - who Harry now noticed did have a spot of ink on his nose. "Very strange indeed... it would seem that you do have some kind of _latent_ ability. Perhaps with time, much time, you will become one of the Istari... but nothing now... not yet. Come, I will show you out - my dear boy are you all right? You look pale... I'll escort you to the houses of healing!"

The old wizard hurried him out of the room and down the hallway. Harry was furious and quietly distraught - these wizards, they would not help him! And if they would not...

Tall Inknose leant in to whisper urgently against Harry's ear, "Hush now, Harry. These are dark times and we do not know who is watching... or who is listening." He led them outside, close to the rose bushes where Harry had slept. "How did you come to be here, dear boy? I did not expect to see you again, not so soon... tell me, did things end as best as could be hoped?"

Harry stared at the wizard, "I beg your pardon?" he thought he'd heard wrong. How could this wizard of middle-earth know about-?

The wizard tipped the rim of his hat back and winked a twinkling blue eye. Harry felt his own eyes fill with tears; and elation filled him, along with that dreaded Sleep. He managed to choke out a name, and saw the wizards face crumple in astonishment before he collapsed to the grass.

'_So -back, back again, Harry...?'_

'_I-I didn't see you, sir...'_

'_Strange, strange, strange how short sighted being invisible can make you, you...'_

'_Sir, sir, there are some things, things I'd like to know, if you can tell me... tell me, tell me things I want to know the truth about...'_

'_The truth is a beautiful and terrible and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great, great caution. However, I shall answer your questions... unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me...beg you'll forgive me, forgive me I shall not... of course... lielielie...'_

_He was breathing hard and fast. This was the close, this, this was the moment, this, this was it. He pressed the golden metal to his lips to his lips to his lips and he whispered -_

'_I am about to die, to die, to die...'_

_The metal shell broke open; he closed his eyes and turned the stone over three times, three times, three times..._

'_...you've been so-so-so brave...'_

'_You're nearly there, very close... we are so-so-so proud of you...'_

_The childish, childish question fell from his lips pressed against the cold gold metal... '...does it hurt-hurt-hurt...?_

'_Dying? Not at all...'_

'_...You'll stay with me...?'_

'_Until... the very... end.'_

_His body and mind felt oddly disconnected now... his limbs working without conscious instruction, as if he were just, just a passenger in the body he was about to leave leave leave..._

_The dead-dead-dead who walked beside him were much more real to him now than the living..._

_Before he lost control, before he betrayed fear - he saw the mouth move and a flash of green, green light and everything was gone._

'_...But... you're dead...' said Harry._

'_Oh, yes...'_

'_Then...I'm dead... too...?'_

'_Ah...you know what happened. You know. You cannot despise me more than I despise myself...'_

'_But I don't despise you-'_

'_Then you should,' said Dumbledore, 'then you should, you should. ...do not pity the dead... Harry... Pity the living...'_

"You're alive." Harry said, before he opened his eyes. He _was_ a little startled to see Professor Dumbledore - Inknose - hovering so _close _before him.

He wizard looked relieved, "My dear boy, what have you been doing?"

"Professor Dumbledore... you died! But how? You're alive?"

"Not alive in the way you would imagine. I _did_ die and after we last spoke I moved on, only to be reborn in a new world. I did not think that I would see you again Harry, not so soon..." Dumbledore looked sad, "Please tell me, you did not take your own life? You did not enter the veil-"

"No! N-no, Professor- Dumbledore-!" Did he really think Harry would take his own life? Why would he think...? "I was hoping you could tell me how I came to be here..."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful and concerned, "...it is very strange that you should not remember the journey between worlds. It is not something easily forgotten. But I see, now, that you are also badly affected by unpredicted after-effects of the killing curse. It is also quite possible you are suffering from severe form of 'portal-lag' - Portkeys, Floo, Apparation... all seemed to have minor adverse affects on you. Perhaps you're coming here was harder on you than it was on me."

"Portal-lag? That's what this is? This sleeping-sickness?"

"I cannot truly say... Perhaps the killing curse or dimensional travel only heightened a pre-existing syndrome. Now tell me dear boy," Dumbledore leant back in his chair, and steepled his long fingers. "What _do_ you remember?"

"...I remember..." Harry murmured, wracking his brain, "I had defeated Voldemort." This was good news to Dumbledore and the man seemed relieved. Harry continued, "His own spell backfired... I remember... talking to people, shaking hands - I felt... I felt so tired, even then. I couldn't get away, I needed to get away. I went to see you- you're portrait- to speak to you... I needed to ask you something..."

Dumbledore looked on with sad eyes, "I'm so sorry, my boy. I have failed you."

Harry paused nervously, "I asked you; what do I do now? I told you; I am lost, I am dying, I am walking dead... I asked you again; what do I do now? Where do I go? There is no one... no one to turn to now... You said not to pity the dead, I asked you to pity me... and then I was sleeping and falling... Sleeping and falling... and then-"

"And then...?"

"I woke up and I realised I wasn't falling, I was flying, flying into the sky. I thought I was moving on. I thought for a moment that I was going to _heaven_..." tears filled Harry's eyes, he gasped, "and then! And then, the clouds parted! And then, I realised I wasn't flying, I really was falling! I was falling so fast! The wind hurt, it was cold and so hot that it burnt me-" Harry touched his face and hissed in pain, "I don't remember hitting the ground... am I dead? Is that why you're here? Am I dead?"

"No Harry, you're not dead. You are very much alive in this world. Harry... forgive me dear boy, but you _have_ died. You can never return to that world. There is no going back... this is your home now."

He'd known it; in the back of his mind, in the depths of his heart. He'd known there was no return. There was solidness here, realness, he felt tied to the earth he sat on, tethered... It sickened him. His heart ached, his eyes burned. He wanted to rage and destroy as he had all those years ago in Professor Dumbledore's office... But he was a different person now. And he didn't want to think of what could have been, not now, maybe not ever.

Instead, after a while, he asked, "So they call you Inknose, here?"

Dumbledore thumbed his nose, missing the ink spot completely, and chuckled, "...they will give you a nickname too, in time. Harry... Harry. These are dark times, dark times. It is not safe for a young wizard... especially one who is experiencing troubles such as yours..."

Harry clutched a hand in his short black hair, "I don't understand! Is there nothing you can do to help me?"

"I'm sorry, my dear boy; this land is unlike our own... so very different. But, is it not so that the sleeping sickness is occurring further and further apart? I'm sure Gimli mentioned that to me..."

"At first I slept all the time... if Maeve had not taken it upon herself to protect me, I would have been eaten by Orcs... it is true that I sleep less now and for shorter amounts of time... But before the Dwarves brought me here, I experienced... a fit."

"A remnant of the Cruciatus Curse, no doubt... These fits can occur for weeks, even months after the act. It can be terrifying," he clasped Harry's shoulder, "But do not let it affect you. You are strong and I doubt you will get many more, if any. It was possibly only the travel through worlds which opened the floodgates for these problems. But they will fade, with time."

Harry tried to take comfort in Dumbledore's words, but found he could not. He was relieved to find someone here, in this strange place, whom he knew... but it wasn't the same. Dumbledore had evidently been here for longer than he'd been dead... he was different... not as all-knowing...

"What should I do?" Harry asked, desperately.

Dumbledore looked to him seriously, "The Dwarves have taken quite a shine to you, and I doubt they would refuse you residing among them for a time... I will of course also be returning with them. I have a certain fondness for the Dwarves of middle earth - not unlike Gandalf the Grey and his Hobbits! I will be protecting the Dwarves during this coming war."

Feeling dull Harry silently disagreed... but _kept_ silent. He didn't want to hide underground... He didn't even want to be here! And he had a sneaking suspicion that this was _Dumbledore's_ fault!

As if he knew what Harry was thinking, Dumbledore whispered, "I know not of what or who brought you here... but you were brought here for a reason... a reason that you have forgotten in sleep. Do not fight the dreams Harry and this knowledge may yet return to you."

"Who brought me here?" harry whispered back, alarmed, "A wizard? A dark wizard?"

"I know not. Though, it is more likely that you were brought here to fight the darkness as I was, as I have been doing, as the _Maiar_ do. Each of the _Maiar_ has a reason for being here, each of us belongs to one of the _Vala_... your purpose will return to you... but you must remain safe, you must heal."

"Inknose!" it was one of the wizards from before, "the last have arrived! We must be ready; it could be at any time... Leave the boy, he looks well enough to me."

Dumbledore nodded at Harry, his face serious. As he left, Harry was tempted to follow. But he dreaded this strange land, he dared not do wrong in this place... and he knew he would not be welcomed at the meeting of wizards, Dwarves, Elves, and men. So he slumped under the rose bush and tried to remember if he'd forgotten anything in between falling asleep and falling through the sky.

Evidently, there was _something_ missing. He wanted to think on it until he remembered, but he felt drained - though not tired. From what he'd gleaned from conversations with the Dwarves and Dumbledore; a war was brewing here. He'd left one world once the war was finished and dropped into another where it was just getting started.

If only he still had his wand... the only _wandless _magic he'd ever performed had been accidental at best - and out of absolute desperation... and what was it that had happened, during his fight with the Orcs...? Time had slowed... perhaps he should mention this to Dumbledore when he saw him next? Perhaps he should not...

Harry did not want to go back to the cold empty room in the houses of healing, so he left the pretty gardens and stepped into a wide, white-stone courtyard. Gathered here and there, sitting, standing, singing and speaking quietly in another language were the Elves.

How he'd ever confused them with House-Elves was beyond him. No wonder the Dwarves had found him so bloody funny when he spoke of them. Not one was under six-foot at least. All had pale skin, slanted eyes, long silky hair and pointy ears. They seemed to glow from within.

The magical creature they most reminded him of would be Veela's. But Harry was immune to Veela-magic, and he was immune to the elf-magic as well, though he now felt inadequate in this place.

He felt a keen sense of loss. He didn't want to walk the places of the Elves. He wanted to be among humans. His own kind... but was that his own kind, here, now? Wizards seemed to be treated as a separate race- no! He was human, he could feel it.

Dumbledore however...

Harry shook his head and stared about at the Elves, who did not look at him. There was a wide set of open doors, leading from the sunlight and white stone, and into blue-tinted shade. Harry approached it cautiously. He stepped inside and shivered.

At the centre of the room a sculpture caught his attention, melancholic as it was. In its hands it held a broken sword -

_- A gleaming silver sword ...its handle... glittering with rubies red blood rubies the size of eggs... He raised the sword in both hands...and drove it to the hilt, to the hilt into the roof of the serpent's mouth...the serpent's gaping mouth... _

_...as warm blood drenched Harry's arms... he felt searing pain...the fang was spreading poison-poison-poison through his body... he wrenched it from his body... but he knew... it was too late, too late... too... late..._

_He could hear echoing footsteps and then a dark shadow moved in front of him..._

"How came you here, boy?"

A/N: Sorry this is a little shorter than the last chapter. I'll make the next chapter extra-long (+ something should actually happen in the next chapter.) Also, sorry about any spelling mistakes, I'll go through and tidy everything up eventually. Thank you for your reviews, I appreciate them all!

P.S. Repeated words are for effect... usually... ;)

P.P.S. Can't. Write. Dumbledore... and Inknose is a shit name. I am very open to suggestions!


	3. Boromir, Pallando, Fhai and Boromir

Narcolepsy

A huge man stood above him, dark of hair, pale of eye and big of muscles... He was looming, his voice had a note of caution, but his face was not unfriendly. As Harry looked at him, a white light flashed behind his eyes and he had to look away.

"Sleeping, for a moment," Harry told him, glancing back up and when he saw the hint of confusion in the man's face and knowing as he did; how quickly confusion could turn to anger, he explained, "I suffer from a sleeping-sickness. I am here to see the..._Maiar._"

The man didn't loom as much, "Have you seen them yet?" His voice was deep, and accent unfamiliar, "The Wizards?"

Harry nodded and stood, "That I have."

"They couldn't help you? I thought the Wizards knew all." The big man held out an equally big hand to steady Harry, "I am Boromir son of Denethor."

"Harry," said Harry, not elaborating, seeing the man still behaving a little suspiciously.

"How exactly did you end up in here?" Boromir's eyes slid towards the statue and the sword, and then back to Harry, "Did the Elves not welcome you with a room?"

"That they did. I came with the Dwarves and I will be returning with the Dwarves soon enough. I can't remember where I was staying though, somewhere in the Houses of Healing..."

The man's complexion cleared almost immediately, "What are you doing wandering around when you're supposed to be in the Houses of healing?" he smiled almost playfully, "You'll be in trouble when the Elves realise you're gone."

Harry realised what had changed; once the man had stopped seeing him as someone suspicious, he'd started seeing him as a child. Harry wasn't exactly short, he probably still had a little growing to do yet... back in England five foot eight was nothing to sniff at. But in this place, with its tall elves and men and wizards... well at least he was taller than the Dwarves.

Boromir and Harry sat on one of the benches, and Boromir began regaling the boy with stories of Gondor and how beautiful it was. How they were at constant odds with the Orcs. Harry shuddered and Boromir noticed.

"My sleeping sickness got me into trouble with Orcs once before... I haven't always had it; it came upon me suddenly, while I was travelling... When I woke the Orcs had me, and many others, mostly women..." Harry told him of how the village had been attacked, the children slaughtered and eaten, the women and surviving men taken to feed them later.

When he finished speaking, Boromir was almost shaking in rage and grief, "Those people... our people! How could it have come to this? That I would hear this from a boy, days, weeks later...?" his voice became muted and he spoke almost to himself, "I must tell _**Éomer**_ of this..."

Placing a hand on the man's shoulder, Harry tried to comfort him, "The Dwarves killed the Orcs and the people are safe now, in a neighbouring village. It has high walls."

To Harry's regret this only added to the man's shame, "Someone should have been there."

"You can't be everywhere!" Harry was curious, "They aren't even from Gondor, and yet you feel so strongly?"

"They are human, they are my people. There are many races in these lands, and many stronger than we are. We must protect ourselves from others."

Harry watched the older man intently, he could barely look away. Something about him drew people in. Despite this, Harry wondered if the man was not a little _racist,_ but decided against it. Here Boromir was, mixing with other races. He was in awe of the elves. He'd shown delight of the Dwarves, and it was revealed that he found them great comedians. Harry wondered if he could ask this man about the war, about what the meeting was for...

"You could come to Gondor," Boromir was saying, "it is a wonderful place, you'd be safe there. You could maybe even join our army - when you're big enough. What are your talents? Have you training in anything?"

'I'm a Wizard,' Harry thought about saying. Instead he asked, "How did _you_ come to be here?"

The man immediately became suspicious again. He eyes slid over Harry and behind his eyes he went over all they'd spoke to each other. After a long moment he closed his eyes, suddenly, finally. And spoke, "I cannot remember when I first began to hear the riddle spoken in my dreams... my brother heard it too, but not our father..." he paused, "_Seek for the Sword that was broken, In Imladris it dwells, There shall be counsels taken, Stronger than Morgul-spells, There shall be shown a token, That doom is near at hand, For Isildur's Bane shall waken, and the Halfling forth shall stand."_

"_A prophecy..."_ whispered Harry, dread filling him.

"I know not," replied Boromir quietly, "but I journeyed here to seek the meaning to my dreams. Some distant yearning..."

"Boromir," it was one of the Wizards from earlier, "it is begun. We must make haste."

Boromir did not speak to Harry as he hastened from the room. However the wizard shot Harry a peculiar look as he followed. Harry felt a chill cover him and he rubbed his arms. He cast a glance back at the statue before he hurried outside, where an Elf was waiting.

The Elf did not look amused, "Master Harry, you are currently suffering from an unknown illness. We did not know where you were, if you were awake or sleeping, if you had left the room yourself or been taken, or if you were safe or if you were not."

"I'm sorry..." murmured Harry, unsure of how to respond.

The Elf only looked more severe, "We would appreciate it if you would inform a Healer before you go walkabouts, again."

"I'm sorry," murmured Harry again, not looking up. In reality he didn't feel sorry at all. But this Elf... was so otherworldly that he was a little blindsided. A hand landed on his shoulder and steered him left.

"Off you go, back to your room, please."

"Alright..." Harry agreed, trying to keep his demure act up. There was no way they were locking him in that room again. But to his surprise, the elf did not follow him. The Elf stood looking around the courtyard as if looking for someone else.

Harry continued in the direction he'd been pointed, but veered off as soon as he could without being spotted. He was going to wait for Dumbledore or Gimli. A few hours passed in boredom for Harry. He actually wished for the sleeping sickness to take him at one point, he was so bored. He focussed on a blade of grass and tried to levitate it wandlessly.

It wasn't happening.

He wandered back to the courtyard, hoping to bump into someone and he bumped into Boromir again. The man looked a little excitable and restless. He saw Harry and made a beeline for him, "Have you decided to go to Gondor?"

Harry hadn't realised it was a serious offer, "I'd love to go to Gondor, it sounds fantastic... but I have to return with the Dwarves and-" he struggled to remember one of Dumbledore's names which this man might recognize, "Pallando."

"Pallando the Blue?"

"The very same."

"I met him once before, as a boy. He was with the other Blue Wizard. I can't remember his name..."

They spoke a little longer. Harry felt the longer he spent with Boromir, the more he got the feeling of being in the right place. It was an odd feeling... maybe the man reminded him of someone else? "Can you tell me about the broken sword, from before? The one the statue was holding?"

Boromir was only too pleased to do so, though he seemed a little irked over something. When questioned he replied with annoyance, "I tried to pick it up earlier, just to see, just to touch... just to hold the fabled sword of my dreams..."

"Did someone stop you?"

"You could say that," Boromir changed the subject.

The more the older man spoke; the more calm and _relieved_ Harry felt; the more tired he got. He closed his eyes for a second and he saw -

_Boromir. It was Boromir sitting with his back to a great, great tree, as if he were resting...just resting...not resting... he was pierced, pierced! Pierced with many many black-feathered black black-feathered arrows; his sword was still in his hand, still in his hand... but it was _broken...

_A man knelt beside him. Boromir opened his eyes, his light grey eyes and strove and strove and _strove_ to speak... At last... at last... slow words came... "I tried to take the ring, the ring, the ring from Frodo..."he said, "I am sorry-sorry-sorry. I have paid..."_

"_Boromir is _dead."

"_There's nothing you can do, Harry-"_

"_Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!"_

"_- it's too late, harry."_

"_We can still reach him - "_

"_There's nothing you can do, Harry ...nothing... he's gone."_

"He hasn't gone!" Harry yelled. He didn't believe it! "SIRIUS!" he bellowed, "SIRIUS!"

"Harry!" it was Dumbledore, _InknosePallando__Rómestámo_, trying to hold him down. Someone else held his legs, "Harry, wake up! It's a dream, just a dream, just a memory!"

Harry sobbed, falling still immediately. It was just a dream, just a memory. But seeing Boromir... seeing him die... that was no memory of his. It hadn't even happened, yet Harry knew it would. "Has Boromir left?"

"Yes, Harry. The Nine Walkers have left," Dumbledore looked inquisitively, "was there something you needed to tell him? I'm sure he knew you didn't mean to fall asleep on him."

Harry slumped, "I needed to speak to him, warn him..." he trailed off and changed the subject, "I didn't actually fall asleep on him, did I?"

"I'm afraid you did. You quite alarmed the poor man! Luckily Gimli was passing by," Dumbledore chuckled, "Gimli wanted to say goodbye in person, but he left me a message for you..."

The Dwarf that had been holding his legs huffed next to Dumbledore, he seemed to treat the old wizard with a little more respect than Gimli did, "Pallando I can tell the boy, if you don't mind," Harry recognised him a Fhӓin, a grumpy brown haired dwarf that was close friends with Gimli. The Dwarf looked Harry in the eye, "Gimli knew you were to be going with Pallando here, but he offers you a place at the great grand halls of his cousin Balin, Lord of all Moria! How about that lad?"

"I'm sorry but due to my illness I think it would be best to stay with... Pallando," Harry didn't want to stay in a place where he didn't know anyone!

"...well," Fhӓin seemed a little put out, "quite right, quite right... So I suppose you'll be heading back with us today then? Best get a move on!" he winked at Harry and marched out.

Harry waited until Fhӓin was out of earshot, "He doesn't want me to go with you?"

"Don't worry, Harry. No one can win everyone over; at least the others will welcome you. It will not be so hard where we are going." As he spoke, Dumbledore was gathering things together from the room; clothing that harry had never seen before, the clothing he had seen before and refused to wear. He picked up a box and chuckled, "Someone has left you a present! Why don't you open it?"

Harry caught the box and admired it, but once he opened it he became mystified, "It's a toy." He pulled out a small silver disk with an enamel bird painted on it. Two pieces of string were attacked to each side and when he flipped it over, the other side of the disc was engraved with a cage. He held the strings and twisted it. The bird in the cage.

He felt sick.

"What does it mean?" he asked Dumbledore.

"I doubt it means anything," the man replied firmly, "In Elven terms you are very young, they must have seen you wandering about and someone left this here to amuse a sick child. It means nothing."

Paranoid, he was just being paranoid, seeing monsters in shadows. It was nothing, Dumbledore was right. This was not their old world; there was no one to hate him here, not yet.

Of the several Dwarves that travelled to Rivendell, only four attended the mysterious meeting. Fhӓin was one of those three who did not. As they were getting ready to leave, Fhӓin hurried himself and hurried the others, rush, rush, rush - and now Harry knew why. Now that they were on their way the Dwarf would not stop asking for information.

"So what happened in there? What did you speak about? You told me you'd tell me on the way back!"

Harry was realising that Fhӓin was mentally not that much older than Harry, perhaps a little younger. The beard had baffled him. As the Dwarf spoke on and on, wheedling at the others and becoming more _irate_, Harry found himself paying close attention.

There was something... something off about him.

Enlightenment came from one of the older Dwarves; Baldur, "Fhӓi! Will you quiet up? This is not something we speak of in the open! We will speak once we reach Belegost!"

Fhӓi, not Fhӓin! If Harry wasn't much mistaken Fhӓi was a _girl's name_... but she had a _beard!_ Now that he had thought she was a girl- a woman, he could see how long her eyelashes were, dark pink lips beneath her moustache. She had beads in her hair and beard. Her beard and hair were also much better kept than those of the other Dwarves and she wore more jewellery.

It was almost funny. He couldn't believe his eyes! He went to adjust his glasses, and found for the second time that they were not in their place. His eyesight immediately became fuzzy, "Oh bloody hell."

"What is it Harry?" Dumbledore was walking beside him. Harry could see the blurry outline of him and his black staff. The evening was growing dark, so the blue crystal in his staff was glowing slightly; this was the only reason harry was still walking. If it was any darker he wouldn't be able to continue.

"...I don't know what happened. It's my eyesight; it's...stopped working again. I just noticed I wasn't wearing my glasses and my eyes became blurry. They were just fine up until then."

There was a thoughtful pause, "The magic here, our magic - it is more intuitive than the magic back home. It has a mind of its own, if you will. It will try to help you. In this case I believe that because you thought you could see, you could! But now that you believe you cannot see, due to the loss of your glasses..."

"...I see," metaphorically at least, "so will I ever see _normally_ again?"

"Oh I should say so, once you have decided you can."

Harry stumbled in near blindness until they made camp. By the light of the fire, he could see things a little clearer, but it gave him a headache, so he sat with his eyes closed. Deri the old salt and pepper Dwarf expressed pity, "Such a shame that a little lad such as yourself should suffer all these debilitating ailments!"

"I think he must deserve it!" announced Fhӓi unashamedly, "I think he's been very bad and is being punished."

There was silence and then, "Fhӓi, shut your trap! Why you must start these arguments with everyone I don't know...oh."

"What do you mean by 'oh' master Baldur?" Fhӓi's voice had become dangerous.

Harry who had been listening with amusement cracked an eye open. There was tension in the air as no one explained themselves. He could only guess that the bearded female Dwarf was being so argumentative because she was on her period. She certainly hadn't been so rude on the way here, but maybe she was becoming impatient with all the secrets.

To be honest he was as well. Maybe he would have to catch her alone and they could work as team gathering information. He watched her blurry form stomp around the fire and out of view. Maybe he would wait until she had calmed down first.

"Pallando," Dumbledore had requested not to be called Dumbledore anymore, "how will my magic work for me, without my wand?"

"I'll teach you to make your staff, once we reach the safety of _Gabilgathol."_

"_Gabilgathol?_" that was a name he hadn't heard before, "I though we were going to Belegost?"

"Hah! You truly know nothing of this world, do you boy?" Deri slapped his thigh, "They are one and the same, names of the same place -our destination!"

"Our home in the Blue Mountains..." breathed Fhӓi.

Harry could tell that people in this world truly loved their homes. To hear people speak with such awe of the places they lived. It was charming, really... it reminded him of Hogwarts, and how he longed for the magic castle now... he looked at Dumbledore, Pallando and wondered how much more the older Wizard must wish for Hogwarts.

"The Blue Mountains? Is that how you came to be called the Blue, D-Pallando?"

"No," said the Wizard simply.

"Oh," Harry was a little surprised.

"Belegost was once a fantastic city," Deri began his story, "and then the mountains of Ered Luin were broken in the war of the Valar against Morgoth and the city was lost. Most Dwarves moved on... Elves moved in. In the forests of Mirkwood they lurk like spiders, picking out Dwarves travelling by! Peh!" he spat, "The Elves of Lindon are a little better, though still a nuisance - ask any Dwarf! Peh!" he spat again.

Harry shifted away from where he was spitting.

"But the city of Belegost has been rebuilt and Dwarves are returning. It is not of its former beauty but one day it will be so! ...Since most of what is left of the mountains is taken by the sea or Elves, we have gone deeper into the rock, into the earth. It can get very cold and damp, but it is home!"

It was sounding like the dungeons to Harry. He closed his eyes again at the pressure in his head, behind his eyes. He lay down and let the sleep come...

He dreamt.

He dreamt of so many things, he dreamt of friends and family and ghosts, he dreamt of flying, of falling through the sky, faster and faster, falling towards the earth he was on fire - his cloak was flying up around him, shredded, shredding... He dreamt of a face, he dreamt of a voice.

"_You must save him...__You _must_ save him..."_

When he woke up he was not where he fell asleep. This meant he'd been asleep and _someone_ had had to carry him. He turned his head and met the dark angry eyes of Fhӓi, "I'm sorry," he told her quickly, but she did not relent.

"I find it more than a little suspicious, _young master Harry_, that you should wake up now, not but a few hours travel to Belegost!"

Indeed, he found himself on wrapped in blankets, lying beside a campfire, and surrounded by trees, "I'm sorry," he told her again, "Where is everyone?"

"Fishing," she told him grumpily, "they said I had to guard you and not follow them."

Just then there came the sounds of raucous laughter and splashing.

"That isn't fair," he told her, sitting up and spilling blankets, "is it because you a girl?"

Her bearded face went white and her mouth dropped open, "How did you-?"

"Oh! Err, sorry... Erm, I just did. You're er... you're very feminine, really," from the look of Fhӓi's face he was muddling this, "look I don't mean to offend you, I really don't."

"...no. No, that's okay, it's just I didn't think humans could tell, not without someone pointing it out to them first? Did Pallando? We asked him not to tell you."

"He didn't say a word," defended Harry.

"I didn't think he would, he's a good man. A good Wizard; those are hard to come by, these days."

"So is it? Because you're a girl, I mean?"

"They're probably getting naked or something," she sighed, "I just want to be treated like one of the blokes. You see; I _don't_ see males that way. I don't want to get married, nor have children. I want to become a Lord and found my own Hall."

Harry didn't quite believe that sentence. He sensed a little acting coming from her, "I don't see why you can't get married, have kids and still do that-" she turned rage filled eyes to him "...but I completely see where you are coming from, just... one of the guys..."

She smiled; for the first time and he could see she must be very pretty for a Dwarf. He was perhaps trying to convince himself a little. But once the male Dwarves had returned from what turned out to be bathing, not fishing, and Pallando returned from actually fishing, Harry noticed how Baldur's sad eyes kept turning to Fhӓi and awkwardly realised Baldur was in love with the grumpy and ferocious female.

As Harry passed him, he clapped the Dwarf on the shoulder sympathetically, "I've been there," he whispered to the Dwarf, who looked perplexed.

They reached the doors of Belegost by nightfall and were welcomed inside. A celebration broke out on their return and the return of the Blue Wizard Pallando. The days there passed without notice and the nights were long. The Dwarves were loud, friendly, aggressive and very busy; always rebuilding Belegost.

Dumbledore divided hours between helping the Dwarves and teaching Harry. The old Dwarf Deri taught him about Middle-Earth, the traditions, the wars, the alliances and of the universal enemies, Orcs, Goblins, Wargs and more... these talks usually left harry feeling terrified of ever stepping foor outside of Belegost again.

One night while pointlessly meditating, Harry asked a question he'd be pondering on for a while, "Have you been here for a long time, Albus?"

Dumbledore looked startled by the use of his first name, "I have been here through many, many ages, Harry. But this consciousness of my life in that old world... that has not been here for long. No. I only became aware of that a few years ago."

"And Boromir mentioned that there were two Blue Wizards, where is the other one?"

The pain of Dumbledore's face was terrible, _"Alatar!"_ he whispered mournfully, "dear Alatar, dear friend... I felt him pass from this land. I should not have left him there alone."

"Left him where?"

"He was in the East, trying to stir up a rebellion. It was so dangerous there and he was much younger than Gandalf and I, much more naive..."

"So these people in the east, they killed him?" Harry had an inkling of what they were talking of, when they spoke of the war, now. Deri had been filling him in and Fhӓi had been whispering the secrets.

"I do not know how he came to pass into the west... I should not have let Saruman talk me into leaving to protect the Dwarves. He had a vision that there would be trouble, I came as fast as I could, but even as I reached the Blue Mountains I knew that Alatar was dead."

Harry remained respectfully quiet as his friend grieved anew. A while passed before he realised Dumbledore needed to be left in peace, at least for the night. Harry sought out his Dwarf friends and found Fhӓi. Now that she was home, she had calmed down a lot. She was happy and had a wicked sense of humour.

"So he said you'd be making your own staff soon? What are you going to make it out of?"

"He said beginners always use wood."

"What what stone are you going to use?"

"Stone?"

"You know nothing, do you?" it was one of her favourite phrases; possibly she knew how much it irritated him. "The stone in your staff, like Pallando's!"

"I don't know," Harry was very tired; and he just figured that Dumbledore would sort everything out for him.

"Come with me, I have a collection of exquisite geodes."

"...really." Harry was dragged through the halls by his short, stout, bearded companion. He was stumbling a little, but she didn't keep her collection far away. She laid them on a ledge for him to admire and he found himself drawn to a lapis lazuli. He picked it up and turned it over and over in his hands admiringly.

"I should have known," Fhӓi said softly, "A blue stone, from the Blue Mountains for a Blue Wizard."

"A Blue Wizard," repeated Harry, his voice seemed to him to come from far, far away.

When Fhai spoke to him again, her voice seemed to come from far away too, _"...are...you-ou...going-ing..to...sleep-eeep-eep...Haarrrryyyyy...?"_

'_That isn't my name,'_ thought Harry, not Harry. Like Dumbledore wasn't Dumbledore anymore... not Harry blinked his eyes at his suddenly very clear vision, "That isn't my name."

"What isn't? Harry? Harry isn't your name? Then what is lad?" Fhai was looking at him with squinting eyes, trying to understand.

"What?" Harry found himself confused as well.

"You said your name isn't Harry."

"Well I don't know what else it would be," Harry blinked again, "My vision has finally cleared up!" it had been getting better and better, but now it was clearer than it ever had been. He looked at Fhai and faked looking horrified, "Eurgh, fhai! Cover it up!"

She looked alarmed, and felt at her face and beard, "What?"

"Your face!"

"Why you little... you really are turning out to be quite troublesome, young man!" she held back her usual punch reserved for such insults, due to Dwarves being very, very strong, and Harry not so much at all.

"So you're letting me have this?" he turned the rock over again, admiring it, "It's beautiful."

"It is, it was one of my favourites - but I am happy to see it go to such a noble purpose. If I were you I would insist on that staff as soon as possible. Pallando hasn't been the same since Alatar died. Some say he blames himself. He's holding you back, whether he means to or not, because he feels guilty for the death of his friend."

"How do you know of this?"

"Baldur told me," she looked somewhat smug.

"Baldur is in love with you," Harry watched her reaction.

"I know." She looked sad and regretful.

"You don't love him back?"

"...I don't want to talk about this, master Harry. I think it is time for me to get back to work!" she straightened her beard out and marched away. Harry watched her fondly, before holding the blue stone up to the light.

"Beautiful..." that was it. He ran back to D-Pallando. He ran back to Pallando, who still sat in grief, "Alright get up I want my staff, now."

Pallando stood with a smile, "Let's get started then."

He hadn't thought Pallando would agree so readily, because he'd actually believed that Pallando was actively holding him back. What was he, fifteen again? Trying to blame his faults on others? He was old enough to get the ball rolling himself.

The staff took three days to make, and to Harry's biased eyes it was beautiful. The branch he chose to make his staff from had been skinned by lightning. It was a lot shorter than Pallando would have liked, as they'd recently had a few arguments due to Harry wanting a wand, and Pallando insisting he have a staff.

It tapered to one end, and on the other he had the stone smoothed into a circle. The branch, with his magic, accepted the stone into itself and he spent three more days working with it, trying to understand it.

On the seventh day, Pallando walked in on Harry swinging his heavy-ended staff like a quidditch bat, "I was actually coming to ask if you wanted to learn staff-fighting. I would be willing to teach you... but your staff isn't long enough. It looks more like a club of some kind..."

Harry swung the staff onto his shoulder, missing his own head by centimetres, he pretended it was intentional, "I like it, and it's working for me. This way, I can hook it into my belt and it is also less noticeable."

"Harry? Why would it need to be less noticeable?"

'Uh-oh,' thought Harry. He didn't really know why, not yet, but he'd been dreaming, dreaming of a purpose and he knew he was not supposed to stay here, "...You know; so that if I ever go out in the world no one will know I'm a Wizard."

"That makes no sense, dear boy. You're leaving something out," he waited a beat, "What are you keeping from me? Why can't you just tell me these things? Do you think I will keep you here against your will?"

"No! It's just that I'm not sure myself yet. I don't want to think it yet alone speak it aloud or to you, not until I know for sure."

"Very well, I will understand, for now. But Harry, you will tell me eventually."

"I will."

Conversations like that happened a lot, for some reason. As if Harry was still expecting him to be Dumbledore; the all-knowing. But from Pallando's view... it was as if the man wasn't expecting him to be Harry. It was as if he was expecting him to be someone else as well and he was becoming frustrated.

Harry began to realise that Pallando was waiting for him, waiting for him to do or say something he would recognise. It didn't make sense to Harry.

When Pallando taught him spells and incantations, he grew frustrated, "You should know this! You should know!"

"How am I supposed to know all these bloody spells? We weren't taught these at Hogwarts!"

"No, Harry; you should _know_. You should have since you first came here, but you have forgotten them, like you have forgotten your purpose."

Conversations like that left him feeling sad and angry. Why couldn't he just remember? His dreams were so vague now, as vague as the dreams he first had were vivid. But he has noticed a pattern, a reoccurring dream or dreams; he dreams of Sirius, then Boromir, Sirius, then Boromir, Sirius - and so on until the two are blurred, the two are the same. Boromir is Sirius, Sirius is Boromir.

He wakes up at an unknown time and knows that Boromir will die, as Sirius died, he wakes up knowing he must save Boromir - that must be his purpose!

Pallando despite saying he would understand, does not want Harry to leave and he tries to talk him out of it. But he _knows_ as Harry now _knows_. And when Harry is packed and ready to go, Fhӓi and Deri are waiting at the gate for him, packed and ready to go too.

Once outside, with his purpose set, he knows where to go, and he knew to hurry. They head towards the Grey Havens and buy a boat from the Elves there, who are not so pleased to be dealing with Dwarves but always happy to help a Wizard.

They take the boat on the sea, keeping close to the shore. They take byways and rivers that should be too shallow, or too narrow for the boat to continue on, but it does. They find what they are looking for in a couple of day of hard searching and disappointment.

He was spinning the little charm from the Elves when he saw it; an Elvin boat, not of the Grey Havens... Harry stepped into the water and waded towards it. He stopped the boat and looked at Boromir and saw Sirius, but it wasn't Sirius, Sirius was gone. Harry reached out and the man was cold, but his body held a spark of life. He could still save him.

He called out to the Dwarves, "We have to stop here!"

"We can't! There are Orcs in the forest, you know that! We have seen them! We'd be outnumbered Harry!"

Harry pulled Boromir's boat towards the other, "Help me lift him in!" The man was heavy; his body though pale from blood loss and cold, was still supple with life. Harry climbed in after him and sat beside him, holding his staff in one hand and his other hand over Boromir's heart.

"I _will_ save you," he told the unconscious man, "I _will_."

A/N: I'm sorry for the annoying OCs... :P ...or am I?


	4. The babe with the power

Narcolepsy

Harry had to heal Boromir in starts and stops. Hours had passed since they had dragged the dying man into their boat, and he was no better. Harry was only strong enough to keep him in a kind of stasis. Not dead, but not alive either.

The pressure, the _purpose_ from before had faded and was now replaced with desperation and tears. He held this dying man in his arms, this stranger, and saw the faces of his friends, his family. It was becoming too personal, it reminded him of his loss, of people he thought he'd see again in the afterlife, and worse… this man was dying, so slowly, so agonisingly.

Harry placed his hands on that bloodied chest again and willed, and willed and willed. It was a strange feeling, using magic in this world. It had never felt unpleasant before, but it felt unpleasant now. He was doing himself a magical injury. He felt as if he were floating above his own body, moving his limbs like a puppet. He felt numb… he felt-

"He looks better," Fhӓi's voice cut through his thoughts.

"He does at that," Deri was turning to look, "He has a bit of colour in 'im. Good job lad."

Scrubbing at his face with his sleeve, Harry was heartened to see that Boromir _did_ look better! The man's chest was rising further… Harry opened his shirt to see that while the wounds were still open, they seemed a little shallower, and less inflamed. But he could swear that as he watched, all his work was undoing.

Harry took a breath to ready himself for healing again, when he had to pause. His head felt …very odd. He heard whispering and he looked up, but neither dwarf was talking. He looked to the trees lining the river and thought he saw someone, but not an orc. Not any living creature.

"…_Harry…"_

A memory, flitting through the trees, calling to him. They were calling his name. How he longed to go to them.

"…_Harry…"_

But he wasn't Harry anymore, was he? Had he ever been? He turned from the memory, distracting himself with Boromir, when the memory screamed a different name, new and old.

"_Alatar!"_

Harry's head snapped up, ears ringing. Alatar? Hadn't he heard that name before?

"Which way now, Harry?"

"Pardon?" he looked up to see his friends watching him.

"Which way… now?" Deri repeated his question, slower.

"Why… Are you asking me?" Harry requested back, equally as slow. The three companions traded glances of confusion like bullets at a Mexican stand-off.

Fhӓi frowned, "You led us here, didn't you Harry! We sort of thought you were going to be leading us back too."

Harry was dismayed to realise they were right, and even more dismayed to realise he didn't know. The knowledge that led him to Boromir was not leading them to wherever they needed to go now. "I didn't even realise… I _did_ lead us here, didn't I? Well I don't know, I mean I was being pulled to… to Boromir and now that he's here..."

Deri sighed heavily and turned to Fhӓi, "I don't suppose you were keeping an eye on the map?"

"What?" Fhӓi sat up, looking affronted, "No! _I_ was keeping an eye out for Orcs, you were supposed to be watching the map, you daft old Dwarf!"

"Daft? Daft! If anyone's daft here, it's you yer young-" The salt and pepper dwarf looked as if he were about to say something very nasty and Harry interjected.

"Deri!"

"And you!" Deri turned to harry now, "You leading us out here with yer powers you can't even control, you led us out here! You got us into this trouble! You!"

Harry hung his head, hurt and guilty.

Fhӓi stopped paddling, only to point her dripping paddle at Deri, "It's not his fault, you old oaf!"

"Shh!" said Harry, looking between them and the trees, "For Merlin's sake, _Shhhh_!" He was ignored.

"You stop calling me old!"

"No, you grumpy old… you grumpy old…You- you false-beard!" It was a furious whisper from the she-Dwarf, and both Dwarves gasped, Fhӓi covered her mouth for second before looking away, paddling rapidly. But Deri wasn't paddling, so the boat began to turn sideways.

"Guys…please…" Harry didn't know what was going on, "The boat… The boat, guys."

What little of Deri's beardless face you could see was quickly turning as purple as Vernon's just before he'd begin a tirade, and the last thing they needed in this Orc-infested place was a tirade. Or even another one.

Harry wracked his brain for what had begun this argument; "Can't we just go back the way we came?"

Deri looked away from Fhӓi and met Harry's nervous gaze, he blinked and seemed to think about it, "I'm afraid that won't be possible now… far too dangerous. We'll have to keep on this river until we reach a settlement. Hopefully your lad there will keep."

Everyone eyes fell on Boromir who was pale and still. Harry placed his hands lightly over the man's wounds and felt his shallow breathing, "He will."

With no destination in mind, and no way of finding their position on the map, they turned their attention to the river banks and the injured man. Through the trees for miles along the river bank, Orcs were spotted. It was too dangerous to stop for anything. They could only keep their heads down, and keep quiet.

Harry had rarely had to spend so much time in near constant terror. With Voldemort it was always sudden, short; he'd never had to spend hours, or days in the vile man's company.

The ache of constant fear was like a heavy burden. It weighed them down. Poor Deri actually seemed almost as grey as Boromir and Harry worried for the old Dwarf, perhaps he'd been too old for adventuring.

…but apparently what was wrong with the Dwarf was the cold beef stew, which had given him diarrhoea. They'd had to do some tricky manoeuvring to use the bathroom, which was over the side of the boat and no one was embarrassed to go after Deri and his explosive…trip. Trying to keep quiet in dangerous territory while an old Dwarf poops his guts out is a hard thing to do.

"Where I come from," Harry whispered to his companions, "they call it gallows humour… when you shouldn't laugh… when you're life is in danger… but you laugh anyway!"

"I like that one," whispered Deri, from where he sat perched over the edge of the boat, "Many a time have I laughed in the face of death. Gallows humour? I like it."

Three days and three nights on a tiny boat can drive you half mad, it rained one night and that was the worst. On the third day of being trapped in the tiny boat they drifted passed a settlement. Fhӓi spotted the silhouette of it against the darkening sky. There were no lamps lit. Harry hoped aloud, "I hope they're just being cautious."

"It's too dark, too quiet. They must have cleared out," replied Deri as the three of them dragged the boat onto the river bank. They decided to wait until the black of the night was upon them, before venturing forth.

Harry spent this time healing Boromir, whose health seemed to be improving little by little. Fhӓi and Harry voted to leave Deri with Boromir while they went to investigate.

"It's because I'm old, isn't it!"

"No, no!" protested Harry, thinking that Fhӓi's words from earlier had really hit a nerve, "It's because you're the best fighter!"

Deri stared at him flatly for a long moment, as a blush crept up the young humans neck and into his face, and said, "While I won't deny it's true I am the best fighter here… leaving me here with this injured human makes no sense unless it's _because you think I'm old_!"

Harry looked at Fhӓi for how to reply, but Fhӓi was already running to the settlement. Harry glanced back at Deri and ran off too. The female Dwarf had disappeared inside the gate, which Harry noticed had been torn off and smashed to pieces. There was a strange, unpleasant, almost familiar smell coming from within. He saw that Fhӓi was standing further in with her head bowed. H stopped beside her, tripping over stray belongings and junk.

"What happened here?" he whispered.

"Oh, Harry!" she turned to him and hid her face in his side. His arms wrapped around her instinctively at first and then tighter. Fhӓi was not an emotional woman, this was most …strange.

"…what is it?" it must be something dreadful. His eyes scanned the area.

"They're dead, they're all dead!" She pulled away to gesture all over the place, "Look around you!"

Harry's eyes widened in the moonlight, and suddenly he could see that strewn among the debris littering the street… were bodies worse than anything he could have imagined …countless bodies…bodies crushed, beaten, bloodied, hacked-at, impaled and half-eaten. Men, women, children, animals… slaughtered in the street. Sightless eyes gazed at their last moment in horror until the birds got to them. Entrails were draped over smashed carts and store-fronts like streamers. The ground was wet with congealing blood and guts. The smell of death.

There was no choice to be made; Harry was going to be sick. As he threw-up he noticed he was throwing-up onto something that was once alive. He spun away and threw-up again. "Monsters," he got out between retches, "never seen anything like it. _Despicable monsters_!"

Fhӓi grabbed his hand and dragged him through the street, "They haven't been dead long," she told him, "We have to see if anyone else is alive, and then we have to take what food and medicine we can find and leave quickly. We have to leave quickly."

"Okay," Harry was trying to pull himself together. It was a horrible nightmare, but if there were people in need of help, they must help them. "Okay. We have to split up, make a run of it. Check every building, you do one side of the street, I do the other – that way if either of us is in trouble we can be there quicker."

"Ready?" Fhӓi asked him.

"Ready." For a second or two they both started off in the same direction, and then wordlessly started off in the other direction before stopping.

"Left," they both said.

"I'll take left," added Fhӓi, hurriedly.

"Right, right," said Harry awkwardly and then they were working through the carnage. But at the end of each row of houses they each had the same answer; not one living being. They started again, this time they were looking for things to take, and things to carry them in.

But everything had been taken, or spoiled and destroyed; they two had to search every room. It was taking precious time, but this is how they found something they did not mean to find.

"It's a baby," said Harry, holding the pink, screaming thing.

"A very upset baby," said Fhӓi, reaching out to stroke its head, "Poor thing, what happened to your mother?"

"It's… a baby, Fhӓi. How did a baby survive?"

"I don't know, Harry, pass her here."

Harry passed her over, and Fhӓi held her for a second, and for a second the baby looked as if it would calm as it gazed back up at her, then its fists grasped hold of her beard and it began screaming again. Fhӓi passed the baby back to Harry, "Keep it quiet!"

"_I_ don't know how!" Harry tried to pass it back.

"Well neither do _I_!" Fhӓi refused it.

"I think it might be hungry, and I think it needs changing, it feels damp or something." Harry tried to hand it to her again.

Fhӓi turned her back, "Take it to Deri, he's been around long enough."

Harry began walking out, holding the baby awkwardly.

"And hurry!"

Harry walked faster, gingerly avoiding entrails, trying to breathe through his mouth. When he got to Deri, the Dwarf knew something was wrong.

"Take this;" said Harry, "We don't know what to do with it."

"What is it? A baby! What in middle-earth!"

"Everyone else is dead… I have to go back and help her look for things, I'll try to look for some milk, but everything's been spoiled."

"Look for a cart," Deri instructed, "and blankets. We have to head out on land; we can't follow the river out to the sea."

"How is Boromir?"

"No better, no worse."

Harry nodded, waited a moment to see if anything else was needed and ran back off. He didn't stop running until he slipped on something pink and fleshy. He dragged the sole of that boot along the ground until he was sure the whatever-that-was…was gone.

He found Fhӓi and relayed their instructions. They managed to find a working cart, but it had a body on it. It had been impaled on a spear and then pinned to the cart… and then partially eaten. Harry felt as if this was some strange horrible dream as he stood over the corpse that was quickly going to rot. He was trying to pull the spear out, but it was deep in the cart beneath the dead man.

"Oh for the love of," Harry swore and cursed and pleaded. But in the end their need was too great for respect of the dead, and Harry couldn't get in a good levering position. He put his foot forwards and then down until he was standing on the man's exposed ribcage.

"Don't look, don't look," he chanted as he managed to wriggle the spear out of the cart and the corpse. He threw the spear to the side, and slid the body over the side. The blood stains would have to stay. When Fhӓi came back with blankets, they next had the hard task of rolling the cart out.

Over corpses and entrails.

The mind becomes numb to the horror, Harry decided. He'd slipped into the state before, but Fhӓi… he looked at her wet face and red eyes. There was nothing he could do, not while they still lived this horror.

The cart was heavy even while empty. On the way down to the boat, Harry saw long, strenuous hours ahead. This world was definitely worse than his old world, he couldn't even use his magic to help, because it didn't work like that! Then what use was it?

What use was he?

Somehow, the old dwarf had managed to get the baby sleeping. When silent, it was apparent the baby was ill. "We must find her something, or she'll not be long for this world." Harry had the strangest urge to cross himself, as he was taught long before he'd been told he was a wizard.

They bundled the blankets and packs from the boat into the cart. They even thought about fitting the small boat to the cart too, but deemed it too much hard work, and even pointless.

A levitating charm would have been _so_ useful for getting Boromir into the cart without hassle. Trying to carry an unconscious, injured man with two people half your size is something he never wanted to try again. They managed, but Boromir's face was creased with new lines of pain.

"At least he feels it," assured Deri, "that's got to mean something."

Fhӓi was in a distressed state, being young and surprisingly innocent the gore had disturbed her greatly. She sat in the cart with Boromir and the baby - which was miraculously still sleeping - while Deri and Harry pulled the cart. As they began to pass the decimated settlement, Deri made them stop.

"I can't leave without checking for myself," he told them.

While they waited, Harry tried to talk to Fhӓi.

"Fhӓi, _Fhӓi, _it will be alright. Everything will turn around, you'll see." As he spoke, he tried not to see the flashes of images imprinted on his eyelids, the tragedy of the day and the tragedy of his past, he tried not to see all the things that clearly were _not_ alright and never would be again. "You have to think that those people are beyond suffering now, they are in a better place."

"Could there truly be such a place?"

"…I don't know, I hope so. There are people I want to meet again."

"There are people I want to meet again," Fhӓi repeated, thoughtfully.

Harry deliberated; Fhӓi would come out of it, he had to keep her mind off of the atrocities, he sang lowly, "We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when, but I know we'll meet again, some sunny day…" he didn't know why he was doing it. It was a song he thought everyone must have known back in Britain. He'd heard it on the radio, when he, Ron and Hermione had… had been… he looked at Fhӓi and she was smiling sadly at her hands. She rubbed her nose on the back of her sleeve and the beads in her beard clacked together.

She noticed his gaze and looked down at them too, briefly before nodding pointedly at his hairless chin, "We'll get you some beads for your beard, when you can grow one."

Harry rubbed his chin, wondering if that had been some dwarven insult when Deri came stomping back, swearing under his breath, "Just awful," he told them, swinging a sack into the cart. He was moving quickly. He swung another sack onto the cart,"provisions. Found some vegetables that'll keep, what were you two looking for, that you missed 'em?"

"Sorry Deri, we… were a little distracted." Fhӓi rubbed her eyes, "The worse thing I've ever seen."

"Well you'll be seeing much worse than that, if things keep going the way they are. War is upon us, we must get back to Belegost! Harry! Get over here and help me pull this cart – we have to get away from here!"

Harry ran towards the front of the cart and began pulling. They were making good time, several miles by midday. Everyone tried to keep quiet, aware that the Orcs who massacred those people could be anywhere. For a good long while, the only sound was the creaking of the cart. It didn't last. The baby woke up.

"What do we give it?"

"Water, that's all we have."

"It won't take it!"

Their spirits sank with the thought that the baby would not make it. Harry almost wished they had never found it, almost.

"Hum to it a little, try to make it sleep again."

"Let it suck your little finger,"

"Mush up some vegetables with the water,"

Deri and Harry shouted suggestions back to Fhӓi, but the baby wouldn't stop crying. It was getting louder, great distressed and distressing wails, that seemed to rebound off of the trees back at them two-fold.

"That baby will bring every orc within ten miles around down upon us!" Deri spat over his shoulder.

Seconds passed like hours, with every one of them searching the surrounding trees, paranoid that they were being watched. The fear was getting to Harry, "I think it's a demon," Harry told Deri, "I feel like everything is too quiet around us, that everything is listening. Something is waiting for us."

Deri's eyes shifted to him, to the forest, and back quickly. When he spoke, his voice was hushed, "…don't say such things, Harry."

Harry felt bad for thinking that the baby was bad luck. He realised that the baby was _just a baby_, the stress and lack of sleep was getting to him. He'd just started thinking that… maybe the Orcs had left in purpose for someone to find, so that it would lead them to their next victim. Harry was on a roll, ""We're being too loud, can't you hear it?"

"Are you having a laugh boy?" Deri whispered back, furiously, barely hear over the cries behind them, "Of course I can hear it!"

"Not the baby! The… silence – in the trees." Harry looked around nervously, they all listen, and here the silence of the forest around them. Then – just as the baby fell silent too, Deri, thoroughly spooked yelled, "KEEP THAT BABY QUIET!"

Harry cringed.

The silence kept for half a second more, and then – the baby began to cry again, maybe even louder than ever. And this time, Fhӓi was crying too, "What would you have me do-o?" she sobbed, "I know as much about this as you two do! Just because I'm female I'm supposed to _know_ about babies? I've never even met one before!" She held the squalling baby away from herself awkwardly and cringed, "it won't shut up and I don't know what to do-o!"

"That's it," growled Deri, "stop Harry, stop." Harry stopped and the old dwarf stormed round to the back of the wagon, climbed on, "Giver her to me," he demanded of Fhӓi. Fhӓi handed him the baby. Deri sat down, "Go pull the wagon," he told her.

It wasn't two minutes and the baby was quiet; it had seemingly taken to Deri, which was a relief. He'd even managed to get a little water down her. Harry sighed tiredly, and looked at the darkening sky. It was getting late again. It had been over twenty-four hours since any of them had last slept.

"We have to stop soon; I need to heal Boromir again, before I get too tired," Harry rolled his aching shoulders. Without almost constant healing, Boromir could only be getting worse. "Deri-?" called Harry.

"Alive," replied Deri before Harry could finish his question.

Harry resigned himself to stopping in another hour or two. Fhӓi was just a bit taller than Deri and this made pulling the cart a little easier. With the baby quiet and Deri – Harry looked back at him – sleeping - Harry and Fhӓi shared an amused glance - the woods began to chatter with birds and other creatures. The trees also began to thin.

Once night had fallen they stopped to make small camp. "No fire," said Deri, "Cold beef stew again tonight."

"Oh-oh," joked Harry from beside Boromir, where he was doing his best to heal him.

"I think it's on the turn…" complained Fhӓi.

"It'll have to do," grumbled Deri, before chucking a blanket over Boromir. "Try and get him drinking some water."

"If it goes in his lungs, he might get pneumonia," Harry frowned.

"I don't know what that is, but I think he might drink it, he woke up once or twice on the way,"

"What!" Harry stared disbelieving at Boromir, "Did he speak?"

"Mumbled a bit, tried to give him some water, but he was in and out of consciousness. Try and wake him up,"

"…alright."

Boromir did drink a little, his eyes unfocussed and feverish, though he had no temperature. Harry realised that… his healing was still at work, even while he wasn't healing him! In a much better mood, Harry turned all of his attention to his companions.

Fhӓi was pouring over the several old maps they'd brought with them from Pallando's small library, "We were foolish, what were we thinking? We weren't prepared at all."

"Well I, for one, thought our Blue Wizard here knew what he was doing!" grouched Deri, causing Harry to duck his head.

"I'm sorry; I don't know what came over me."

"You know nothing, do you?" joked Fhӓi, looking up from the maps, then, "what size was the settlement? Village size? Town size?"

"Village," say Deri and Harry. Harry got up to sit down next to Fhӓi, and Deri placed the baby in Harry's lap. The baby was thankfully asleep.

"She doesn't look good," Harry was frightened to touch her, but he thought about healing her.

"None of us do," says Deri joining Fhӓi over the map. Harry moved back over to Boromir and lay down next to the man with the baby, for warmth. Something he would not have done if the man had been awake. The man had been formidable, a little terrifying, a little familiar, and now he was someone Harry was becoming attached too, though it made Harry sad to know the man would have no such attachment to him when he woke up.

Harry slept, and dreamt about a horse in the woods and when he woke up in the early hours of the morning, Fhӓi gleefully showed him the horse; which wandered into the camp and stayed the night. With a healthy horse pulling the cart, Harry and Fhӓi walked beside it, while Deri got a free ride with Boromir and the baby. This also meant he was in charge of them both.

Unfortunately the baby became more ill. They did not have milk, nor food fit for a baby, and Harry tried to keep it alive by healing. He didn't know if he was helping or not. The baby was crying again without stop, the stress almost drove Harry into _sleeping_ more than once.

"Something needs to be done," said Deri. He sounded like a man who had an idea. They had worked out where they were on the map the night the horse wandered into their camp. They also knew where they were headed.

"Fhӓi," Deri looked at her seriously, "It must be you. You need to take the baby, on horseback – it will be faster - to the nearest village," he showed her the map and handed it to her, "you can do it."

Fhӓi agreed, but she was not a natural rider, and Harry had to tie her on. Apparently no dwarf was meant to have their feet off of the earth. She left after sharing a meaningful glance with Deri. Harry wondered at that look between them, it had been something personal.

Hours after she had left, and they were making slow progress, both of them were tired. It seemed their hearts had left with Fhӓi and the baby. Neither tried to start conversation, due to the overwhelming worry. Night fell once more and with it came the _wargs_, howling in the near distance.

"Into the trees, quickly!" cried Deri, and the two climbed into the nearest tree, dragging Boromir up with them, and if they'd thought getting him into the cart was a difficult task… but adrenaline made them stronger. They tied the injured man into the vee of the tree and waited.

Harry imagined something like a werewolf, something like Professor Lupin, or Greyback. But when he saw them, huge wolf-like beasts, swarming the cart, with large heads and teeth glinting in the moonlight, and large intelligent eyes, glinting in the moonlight, the _difference_ of them and the sheer _size_ was terrifying.

Harry held his breath, feeling frightened and angry at the ugly, guttural language of the _warg_-riders. Rage and despair welled in him as they pointed in the direction Fhӓi had gone, and then his heart dropped into his stomach. One of the _wargs_ had seen him.

A/N: Better late than never, right? …right? Next chapter = coming soon, and with a little romance.

Thanks for all the reviews, I truly appreciate them all, sorry for not getting back to you, just know that I love you for liking my story enough to review, and I'm sorry.

Also I found my old draft and it was a harry/Legolas or Harry/Eomer ! Surprised the hell out of me. This is still Harry/Faramir though, no worries.


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